


The First Annual RMSU #3 Master of Sass Contest

by B_Radley



Series: Becoming Fulcrum [5]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Boredom, Clone Shenanigans, Companionable Snark, Gen, Healing, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8513827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: Clones recover from hell. Jedi debate, or simply argue and snark.A Null gets the last word.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zinjadu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/gifts).
  * Inspired by [It Hath No Stalk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8069680) by [B_Radley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley). 



> From a prompt by zinjadu. Prompt asks for a conversation between my original characters and Obi Wan Kenobi involving a great deal of snark and sass.
> 
> Hope this works!
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for reading.

**Republic Medical Surgical Unit #3**

**Post-Z'ambique Campaign**

A half-dozen brothers lay in various stages of boredom on the deck of the drill hall. Since the medical staff had forbidden any further games of Murder-Ball after the initial game, the men of the three battalions and the Commando task force had spent most of their days laying on the deck of the drill hall in their hospital fatigues.

Except for the numerous times that one Marshal Commander Cody had turfed the entire brigade out for close order drill.

"To keep them sharp," he said. Especially since they hadn't been medically cleared for more than marching.

They  hadn't particularly been medically cleared for the extra-violent game of Murder-Ball, but that hadn't stopped them.

The actions of a couple of their members, as well as their Jedi had precluded any more of that.

"You know," says Boil of the 212th, "we would still be able to play if Commander Tano and that thug Drop hadn't teamed up and broke General Croft to get the ball from him."

"If didn't help when your mini-Commander kicked Drop in the balls to take the ball over the goal," his constant companion Waxer said.

"Hey!"says the 501st and 332nd contingent simultaneously. "Watch it, bud, or we may follow her example."

Waxer raises his hands in a peacemaking gesture."It's okay, _Vod'e_. I respect her too. Just saying. I am stuck looking at your ugly faces waiting on that damned healer to clear us so we can get back into the fight."

"We could play another round of Sabacc."

There is a collective groan. "No. We can't, you _barve_. The damned cards are worn so thin we can see the faces. Plus, whose bright idea was it to teach Commander Tano to play? Even without the terrifying mind-powers, she was whipping our asses pretty handily. Good thing we don't have anything to play for."

The 501st contingent, made up of Ince and Oz swell with pride. "Well, she did say, she wouldn't take anything from us," Ince says.

"Although, the kid probably could use a couple of extra desserts now and then," says Hector of the 332nd. "She's got some guts, but could stand to go up a weight-class."

"Didn't seem to stop her from kicking ass and taking names,"Oz says. "Yep," Boil agrees.

"Oh, great. Here come two of those insufferable commando assholes," Oz says. "You'd think that they handled the whole campaign by themselves."

"Pretty much did," Hector says.

Peck and Bozo, the aforementioned commandos, walk up to them. The two commandos are known to share a berth and watch each other's back intently.

"What's up, _Vod'e_?" Peck, the older of the two asks. "Not a damned thing, Peck. That's the problem," Boil replies.

"Yeah," says Peck. "Apparently you don't kill time on RMSU 3. It dies a slow death."

"Here comes something that could be entertaining."

The troopers turn and watch as two Jedi approach, walking side by side. Jedi Master Obi-wan-Kenobi is talking to the newly-knighted Taliesin Croft. Both seem very animated in their discussion. They stop in front of the group of clones and continue their conversation.

"Croft, the secret to a good battle quip, is timing. You have to know when to time your remark for maximum effect. You can't deliver it when you are swinging your lightsaber; it will be lost in the delivery."

"Master, I know that the 'Negotiator' is a master of words, but you actually have to be funny in order to even come up with a quip to throw at the enemy."

Kenobi looks ceilingward. "Ahh the young. We don't teach the lost art of combat bantering any longer. A pity."

"Some of us don't need to be taught, Master. We are Corellian."

"That just means that you are skilled at being a smartass, Croft. Not necessarily skilled in banter with one's enemies."

"Well, I had a delightful conversation before the war with one of your favorites. I held my own," the younger Jedi says.

"Ah yes. Asajj Ventress. Now she can banter, Taliesin."

"Yes, Master. I noticed. Except I was a little busy trying to keep either my balls or my head from being separated. All while jumping from rooftop to rooftop."

Kenobi nods. "As I recall from Master Ti's report, that didn't go well for you. I recall that you had an unfortunate meeting of the minds with a Drall's aircar. A meeting that resulted in more broken ribs. As well as more credits for Master Yoda."

Croft's eyes widen. "So you are telling me that the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order bet credits on whether or not one of his Padawan learners would injure themselves on a mission?"

"Well, he based it upon your previous behavior. So, it wasn't exactly a shot in the dark."

Croft shrugs, conceding the point.

Neither of the Jedi notice, but they have a rapt audience. More clones have joined their fellows in following the old Army maxim, 'Never sit down when you can lie down."

The Jedi also don't notice that the troopers seem to be putting a large pile of Republic credits together. Republic credits that are scarce and valuable among men who are not paid.

"Well, Master, I also heard that right after we left for Corellia, you jumped out of a window and tackled an assassin droid. A few hundred stories above the Coruscant streets."

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"Is that your motto, Master Kenobi? Do you have it as a tattoo?"

There is a slight murmur among the troopers.

"Why yes. Yes I do, as a matter of fact. Would you like to see?"

"No. Sorry, Master. Not into AgriCorps rejects."

"From what I can tell, you seem to be 'in' to just about anything that has a pulse, Jedi Croft."

The troopers' heads are swiveling back and forth. The pile of money grows.

As does the pile of clones.

Neither the clones nor the Jedi notice two figures walk up behind the pile of clones. The smaller of the two starts to speak. The tall young Jedi with the scar bisecting his right eye holds up his hand. The young woman stops and listens.

"That is a myth, Master Kenobi. I am not into Hutts," Croft says.

"Only probably because you haven't tried one, Croft."

"Are you speaking from experience, Master?"

"You can't knock what you haven't tried, Taliesin."

"I believe that I will bow to your greater experience in diplomatic affairs with Hutts, Master Kenobi."

Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano smile at the group of clones before them. All are standing rapt, their eyes wide, the pile of credits forgotten as they listen in shock.

"Well, I have heard, Taliesin that you are very skilled in negotiating with the _Akul_ beast on Shili. As a matter of fact, I've heard that you are very good at hitting the beast with your ribs so that a more skilled huntress can cure the beast of its propensity for eating small children."

Anakin can see that his new Padawan is practically vibrating with her desire to join in. With a smirk, he nods at her.

The clones believe that they have a clear winner in the _RMSU 3 Master of Sass contest._ It has been ten seconds since Croft has said anything in rejoinder. A good third of the clones, including those from the 501st and some of the surviving 212th are smiling at Kenobi.

The rest of the 332nd and the commandos are sticking with youth, having been exposed to Croft's brand of wit.

An unexpected response comes from a high, clear voice. "I think that neither one of you has much room to talk. Neither of you have fought while carrying a stinking Hutlet on your back. Nor have you saved the 'O great hunter Taliesin Croft's' _shebs_ from that beast. All while being, what some would term, a small child."

Both Kenobi and Croft are silent. The gathered clones wait with anticipation.

The Master and Knight look ruefully at one another. "I think that she has got it down, Taliesin."

"Yep. Taught her everything she knows," Croft says.

The eyeroll is felt throughout the drill hall.

"What the hell is going on here?"

A new voice reverberates through the hall. A very large clone, a member of that group known as the Null-ARCs, stalks up to the group. He looks at the assembled clones to the pile of credits to the Jedi.

"Just a friendly wager, Drop," says Peck. "A wager on what, Peck?"

No one speaks.

"Come on, spit it out," the giant clone says, quietly, but with menace.

Boil speaks up. "We were betting on which of those two _jetti_ is the bigger smartass."

Drop rolls his eyes. "And what was the deciding factor?"

All of the assembled clones seem to look elsewhere. Hector finally speaks up, in a small voice. "Whichever one got the last word."

Drop is silent. The troopers are silent. Even the four _jetti_ are silent.

"So, let me get this straight. You were betting all of this money on whether or not a Jedi can shut up? A race of beings not noted for their reticence, or their ability to not talk?"

The clones look at one another. "Pretty much, Sarge," says Bozo.

Drop stares at them. "You idiots."

"Who won?" Drop finally asks.

"Nobody, apparently," says Waxer.

"Why is that?"

"Nobody bet on Commander Tano."

"Even the Jedi," says Kenobi.

Drop's smile is predatory. "I guess that means that the Sergeant-Major collects."

There is a murmur among the troopers. "What was that? I couldn't hear you." the Null says.

He reaches down and collects the pool. He counts it out in front of the crestfallen troopers.

"Oh, by the way. The CMO has signed off on all of you for full exercise. My drill field looks damn lonely."

"Fall in!" he bellows. "Right, Face," as soon as they are in formation.

He begins to count the credits again as the troopers begin to double time around the field. _Yep. Just enough for a good brigade meal of something besides ration paste. I am sure that Gregor and Tang can scare up some good food. Especially if 'Masterchef Croft' puts his mind to it. Maybe the Jedi can pitch in and buy drinks._

He smiles. Maybe everybody but Ahsoka. _Kid is responsible for this shindig. Just by being her usual smartassed self._

His eyes narrow. He sees the four Jedi standing there, watching the exercise.

"Full duty means you four, as well, sirs. Methinks that you are all a bit rusty after your time in bacta. Fall in!"

The true Master of Sass surveys his handiwork. Already he had heard the troopers repeating the Jedi stories and snark in their effortless run around the drill hall. They would be repeated probably until they were in the shit again.

_Stories make their worlds go around._


End file.
